


Monster: The Victim

by Strings (fangirlgeekout)



Series: Monster 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Team Free Will, Tentacle Monsters, Tickling, Ticklish Castiel, Wings, tickle monster - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 07:45:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlgeekout/pseuds/Strings
Summary: Cas gets it bad. Really bad. Possibly the worst. I almost feel guilty. (A POV-swap forMonster.)---He was dimly aware of the distressed shouts as Sam and Dean tried to figure out how to fight off something they couldn’t see. Castiel was more concerned about the immediacy with which the monster was shoving him back flat on the floor and surging up onto his chest.It was heavy. That was about the only thing he could tell for sure. It also had limbs – a surprising number of them, flexible like snakes that writhed against him as it battled for dominance. At this point, Castiel had no reason to believe that the creature was comprised of anything but limbs. Appendages, more accurately. Tentacles, perhaps most accurately.Oh. Sothat’swhat they were dealing with.





	Monster: The Victim

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Monster](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13497528) by [Strings (fangirlgeekout)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlgeekout/pseuds/Strings). 



> Fanart can be found [here](http://wordstrings.tumblr.com/post/85011955065/fantastically-fictional-uh-oh-i-drew-fan-art)!
> 
> Originally posted May 2014 on [Tumblr](http://wordstrings.tumblr.com/post/84615286381/monster-the-victim).

The rash of deaths had been unusual, to say the least.

Castiel studied the lifeless form curled on the bare concrete floor. It was the fourth such victim he and the Winchesters had discovered in this town, all individuals who had disappeared shortly after a social gathering only to turn up as a corpse in a solitary or abandoned location. Cause of death appeared to be oxygen deprivation, but there were no signs of physical force. Not even internal damage or other issues that Cas could sense.

He glanced up when a pair of dress shoes shuffled by. Sam was on his phone, pacing as he ran a hand through his hair and discussed the case with “his supervisor.” Castiel had to admit that, for a human, Bobby Singer was an excellent resource in many situations, and the brothers were lucky to have him.

Dean’s rough voice cut through the official-sounding murmurs in the room, announcing their departure and bestowing contact information should another body appear.

The walk back to the Impala was busy with rehashing and theories. Castiel climbed into the back seat (it still felt odd to enter the car in such a corporeal manner) and remained until they were out of range of third-party eyes. He shifted out of the physical plane without any further word to the Winchesters. They would pray if they required him.

—

It was barely six hours later – as best as Castiel assumed, anyhow; sometimes it was easy to lose track of something as trivial as time – when an anxious cry from Dean called him suddenly back. Cas materialized in the same building they’d left earlier that day, on an upper floor, with Dean still finishing his sentence and Sam midway through a fall to the unforgiving floor. It took hardly a formation of a thought for Cas to shift out and back in right behind the flailing hunter, catching him under the arms and simultaneously becoming aware that something else was in the room, partially displaced out of the way by his new appearance. That meant two things - that the Winchesters had found what they were looking for, and that it was in the process of attacking Sam. Castiel pivoted on his heels, wrenching Sam out of the creature’s grip and placing himself between them.

Castiel realized belatedly that the aura he sensed wasn’t something directly visible. The hunters likely couldn’t even see what they were up against. To be fair, neither could Cas, but his celestial senses filled in some of the gaps. Though the shape was nebulous, he could tell it was roughly twice the mass of a human, but it’s purpose wasn’t so easily discerned. That was what threw him off – normally a malicious intent was as obvious as a flashing sign, but this entity wasn’t broadcasting so clearly, and the confusion gave Castiel pause.

That was all it took. Something wound tightly around his lower leg and yanked him off balance. Castiel focused for an instant on making sure Sam would land safely, then he succumbed to the fall. He tried to probe at the creature’s consciousness, but a mindless sort of intelligence was all he was met with. Highly unusual. He had all of three-quarters of a second to ponder it before Sam and Dean and the building itself were being dragged away from him.

No, wait, the other way around.  _He_  was being dragged, with considerable acceleration, out of the room. 

He could hear a shout from what was now a surprising distance behind him as the hunters took chase. Malevolence or not, escaping this monster seemed to be the most sensible course of action – but not escaping it so far that they had little chance of finding it again. Physical force, then. Castiel kicked and thrashed for a grip on anything that would slow him down, but the mostly-empty building offered little assistance. He did discover that the walls were quite resilient, when a sharp turn in the hallway sent him slamming into one with no drop in speed.

There was another  _thud_  as Castiel’s shoulder connected with a doorframe and he winced. Just as quickly as he’d been taken, the movement abruptly stopped, and Cas flicked his eyes around the bare room he was now in. Too late, he sensed the creature suddenly behind him – something was snaking around and up the inside of his coat, searching near the open edges of his suit jacket. There was something decidedly uncomfortable about the touch, and Cas jerked away, twisting from the probing grasp and clambering back on the floor.

Dean burst into the room, his pistol wildly seeking a target. Sam was only a step behind, one hand cocking a shotgun, the other pinning a phone to his ear. Cas hoped they had unearthed more helpful information for Bobby since he’d last spoken to them; what they’d had to go on earlier was sparse, to say the least.

The creature advanced, and Castiel could now perceive what he’d call a  _hunger_  as it lunged for him. An appendage grabbed his ankle again, yanking him closer. He struggled and manifested his blade in defense, but didn’t even get in a swing before the creature assaulted his arm and sent the weapon skidding across the floor out of reach.

He was dimly aware of the distressed shouts as Sam and Dean tried to figure out how to fight off something they couldn’t see. Castiel was more concerned about the immediacy with which the monster was shoving him back flat on the floor and surging up onto his chest.

It was heavy. That was about the only thing he could tell for sure. It also had limbs – a surprising number of them, flexible like snakes that writhed against him as it battled for dominance. At this point, Castiel had no reason to believe that the creature was comprised of anything  _but_  limbs. Appendages, more accurately. Tentacles, perhaps most accurately.

_Oh_. So  _that’s_ what they were dealing with.

Cas was struck by conflicting floods of emotion: relief, that he was in no immediate danger and that the boys had the luxury of time to determine how best to take care of it; and overwhelming apprehension, for what he was about to endure.

He dearly hoped the hunters’ resourcefulness would expedite the process.

Part of the creature’s advantage as a fractional dimension-shifter, in addition to going unseen, was that neither clothing nor one’s own limbs were effective barriers. Castiel felt the beginnings of an exploration at his stomach: a soft ticklish wriggle against his skin that had him buckling in around the sensation. He dropped his head back against the floor in resignation, aware of the smile already tugging at his mouth and taking what small comfort he could in knowing that as long as It was focused on him, neither Dean nor Sam were at risk. He was certain that the Winchesters would be highly unsatisfied if, out of all the monsters they’d fought and all the disasters they’d averted, a fatal tickle-attack was what ended up sending them through the Veil.

A choked snort escaped his throat when what felt like three other velvety-smooth tentacles wormed across his belly. They skimmed like soft fingertips, unimpeded by the physicality of his layers of clothing, stroking experimentally and lingering in the places that made him twitch.

“Is it… licking your face like a puppy or something?” he heard Dean asking.

“N-no…” Castiel managed to answer before there was more nearly-frictionless slithering that tickled up his sides. A giggle slipped out as he arched back and shoved at It, as useless as he knew that was. The longer he could keep from laughing, the better.

Sam was still on the phone in the background. Castiel couldn’t tell if he was getting any useful information from Bobby yet, but his ability to concentrate on anything beyond the sensations assaulting him was becoming increasingly impaired. He might not be able to see exactly which variant of this monster was currently trying to feed on his laughter, but he could make a few educated guesses. This was a mature adult, judging from its size, so it wasn’t part of a nest. With any luck, It was alone. Having recently taken another victim, It wasn’t as ravenous as It could be; yet that meant It was still full of energy from its last meal. Those two points probably broke even in terms of how well Castiel’s sanity would fare.

His observations were cut short when a main appendage, or at least one that felt considerably larger than the others, coiled around his chest. There were some sort of protuberances on the underside of it – not suckers in typical tentacular fashion, but more like little wiggling nubs – and Castiel gasped and curled up as they started rippling along his ribs. They teased his skin and sent masses of tickly vibrations over his whole ribcage, and despite his best efforts, Cas quickly broke down into persistent giggles. Apparently spurred on by the success, the other tentacles flicked eagerly into the gaps between the nubbed coils, and more arrived to move in on the vacated space along his sides and stomach. They scurried in happy little patterns, tapping and swirling as they went, unbothered by the defensive arms Castiel wrapped futilely around himself. When one wandering tip wiggled curiously into his belly button, he squealed through his giggles.

Throaty laughter now echoed through the room and out into the abandoned halls as Cas squirmed on the floor. He thought he heard the term “bogeyman” repeated a few times between the hunters, which meant they were on the right track, at least. (The “ _man_ ” portion of the word was only relevant in a surprisingly small proportion of the creatures it summarized.) He giggled madly as a pair of rounded tips tickled vigorously along his lower abdomen, following the cut of his hips.

Castiel officially lost count after the fourteenth tentacle started prodding his torso. A few more danced up into his armpits despite how tightly his arms were pinned to his sides, and as Cas’ laughter jumped once again, he decided that if he ever encountered another shifter like this, it would be too soon.

Another primary tentacle wrapped itself around his thigh. He  _really_  hoped two of those were all It had; his breathing was already substantially disrupted, which was greatly uncomfortable even if not actually harmful. When the accompanying nubs started to wiggle, he shrieked through his laughter and collapsed over on his side. Cas hadn’t known his thighs were so ticklish, and more tentacle tips were unfortunately taking it upon themselves to hone in on this new discovery. They darted in to his inner thighs and trailed spirals and zigzags along the backs of his legs, dragging out cackling laughter that had tears forming at the corners of Castiel’s eyes.

When several more tickling tentacles accosted the soles of his feet, working in tandem on both his arches and beneath his toes, he yelped and disintegrated into fresh peals of laughter. It was too much; the Winchesters needed to stop It  _now_ , or this wasn’t going to end well for any of them.  _What was taking them so long?_

“ _H-hhhhhh_ -” Cas panted brokenly, trying to focus on the tear-blurred figures at the side of the room. A team of wriggling tendrils was working its way between his toes. “ _Hhhehehelllllp_!” The exuberant tickling on his belly renewed in response to his cry, and he snorted before falling back into desperate laughter.

A human would likely have passed out by now, he thought. An angel had no such luxury.

It felt like he was losing himself. Castiel’s brothers had tickled him when they were young, not yet concerned with the happenings of their Father’s world, but not even Gabriel’s viciously playful attacks had ever been this zealous. Vibrating and prodding at his ribs, swirling across his stomach, brushing up and down his sides, wiggling into his underarms, rippling and scribbling around his thighs, worming along his arches, flickering all over his toes –  _he couldn’t take it_. Castiel fell back on instinct and cried out to his Father, his native tongue slipping through as he gasped and pleaded for mercy through his shrieking laughter.

He truly thought it couldn’t get any worse. 

But apparently, calling for help didn’t agree with his assailant, and a fresh set of tentacles began searching his body for any spots they’d missed. Several settled around his knees, another few found his neck. And then they chanced upon his upper back.

Castiel had been spending every spare ounce of concentration on keeping his wings hidden from this monster (which was no easy task when it came to a creature with some fellow level of shifting ability, let alone how little concentration Castiel actually had available). But when a handful of soft, teasing tips flicked over his shoulder blades, he slipped up and the dimensional camouflage faltered.

A flurry of tentacles abandoned their posts to flock over the new invisible targets. Cas arched back violently, screeching in consummate desperation. He could feel them winding tightly around each of his wings, binding their movement and forcing in between the feathers. Pairs and triplets were teaming up to knead torturously into the sensitive musculature as others danced lightly over the surface, sending excruciatingly ticklish sensations exploding down through his flesh. Castiel was in sheer unbridled hysterics, writhing and wailing and laughing and  _screaming and screaming_ —

All at once, it vanished. All of it. It took Castiel a firm ten seconds to believe it was over; even then, his body continued to tremble and jerk away from phantom sensations as convulsive giggles kept burbling up his throat.

He became aware of a tinkling sound that was slowly petering out to silence. His Voice must have broken the windows. Sam was saying something– something about a “tickle monster.” Close enough. Whatever they’d done had worked for getting rid of It, and Cas was nothing but thankful.

The following moments were a bit of a blur as he took full inventory of his vessel’s systems and status. Both Dean and Sam addressed him, though he wasn’t entirely sure in which order. He answered them, probably. At least, he was vaguely conscious of a dull pain he associated with somewhere near his voice box.

With the aid of both hunters, Castiel was finally able to get to his feet and make it out to the Impala. Sliding in to the back seat through the open door still felt strange. He determined that he could probably heal his muscle strains and damaged vocal cords relatively quickly and be on his way, but after  _that_  ordeal, he could afford a few hours’ respite before returning to Heaven’s service. The opportunity to rest in the company of the Winchesters held a certain appeal, he had to admit. 

Or at least, it did until the engine rumbled to life and Dean looked up into the rearview mirror with an impish glint in his eye. 

“So, Cas,“ he commented casually, "Most ticklish angel in the garrison?”

Castiel just glared.


End file.
